


It Changes You

by myfivemeters



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, M/M, Mentions of Rape, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-29
Updated: 2014-11-29
Packaged: 2018-02-27 09:09:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2687207
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myfivemeters/pseuds/myfivemeters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You're a guy, Antonio, you should like this." In which a student tries to tell him that he doesn't owe anyone anything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	It Changes You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheGoliathBeetle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGoliathBeetle/gifts).



The harsh rain hammers the windows of the train. He finishes putting his suitcase in the overhead compartment and flinches at the sight of the gray sky. It reminds him too much of that night, and it makes him feel like he's there again, being pressed into his once comforting bed and—

 

The jolt of the train shakes him out of his trance and he sits down, trying to avoid the curious stares of the other passengers in the train. He knows that he must have looked ridiculous, standing there frozen and breathing roughly. He quickly pulls down the shading at the top of the window next to his seat and fights to control his thoughts. He's fine for a few minutes until the stewardess comes walking down the aisle, her heels clicking against the aluminum flooring. His gaze flies around and all he can see now is their darkened bedroom and _her._ He recoils at the hand of the stewardess on his shoulder.

 

“-ir? Sir, are you alright?” Her voice is calming, so unlike the voice he heard. He hesitates before shaking his head. Her gaze is so sympathetic and she offers to get him a glass of water. His mouth is feeling awfully dry, so he accepts. She leaves and comes back moments later with a cool water bottle. He smiles weakly and takes a large drink.

 

“Thank you,” he says gratefully.

 

“What's your name?” She asks softly.

 

“Antonio,” he replies.

 

“Well, Antonio, if you need anything, let me know, okay?” He nods and she smiles again before moving on. He looks down at the water bottle, turning it over and examining it. He freezes when he catches sight of the long scratch marks on his wrist.

 

He hurriedly pulls his sleeve down and lets go of the water bottle.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Antonio glances around at his new apartment. The walls are a soft green and everything is very open. He shuts the door and cringes at the sound of the lock. He drags his suitcase across the floor and places it in his room.

 

He's happy that he's somewhere different—he doesn't think that he would've been able to stay there. His parents were confused as to why he wanted to move, but happily supplied him with money nonetheless. He wants a new start, he really does, but he's not sure why he feels like he'll never truly be able to leave that small town. Maybe when he graduated high school four years ago, he should've stayed with his parents and eventually moved back to Spain with them. Why did he have to be so stubborn? This whole thing could've been avoided if he had just stayed put instead of chasing his stupid high school sweetheart to college.

 

Antonio audibly hisses when he pictures her again. She was beautiful, she really was, but now all he could remember was her voice telling him that he should _like_ what she's doing to him and the feral grin she wore when she said it. He sinks to the floor and tries in vain to stop the tears rushing down his face.

He's christening his new home with tears, he supposes.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

He works at a restaurant everyday. He's still looking for an actual job; hopefully a teaching position at the local high school. Antonio sent in a resume last week and he's due for an interview on Saturday. He's excited and happier than he's been in a while.

 

He looks at the school as he passes by on his way home from work. The students are just getting out now, and he catches the gaze of a lean young man. Antonio raises his eyebrow and the student huffs and turns away. He chuckles a little bit and looks forward again.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Antonio exits the school feeling confident. He answered the questions easily, and he covered his fear of the nice black dress the principal of the school wore. He made it clear that he really wanted a position in the Foods department, but unfortunately that position was taken. They compromised, and while he had an assistant teaching job in the Senior class, he would also work as the Spanish 4 teacher, as they were in desperate need of one. He would start next week. Although the pay wasn't exactly something he could live lavishly on, he was happy.

 

It hasn't rained again since he arrived, he thinks happily as he enters his warm kitchen. He sees this as a good sign, and decides that he'll make one of his favorite dishes. He rolls up his sleeves, albeit slowly, and hums as he pulls out several food items. He stops as he reaches to grab the tomatoes and pulls his hand away. He'll just have to make it without, he decides.

 

He goes to bed with a full stomach and an excitement for Monday. He finally feels like things are coming together, and that maybe moving was the best thing he could've done.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

“Hola!” He greets as the last of the students filter into the classroom. He's surprised at the sheer number of students in this first period class; he thought that Spanish 4 was one of those classes where only those serious about Spanish took it.

 

The seniors groan at his enthusiasm and raise their hands halfheartedly. He laughs and reaches for a whiteboard marker before quickly writing his name on the board.

 

“Me llamo Señor Carriedo. I know that it's already the fourth week of school and you're all seniors, but we're going to have to introduce ourselves again because I don't know any of you.” Antonio turns around and immediately spots the student that had caught his eye last week. “Who wants to start?”

 

They go around the room before finally reaching the student that he wonders most about. “Me llamo Lovino Vargas, soy de Italia. Me gusta dormir y comer.” The class laughs and agrees with him.

 

“Mucho gusto, Lovino.” Antonio smiles and he blushes. “Okay, time to learn about me, I guess. I'm 21 years old and I was born in Spain, but I just moved here from LA-”

 

“Why would you move here?” A girl calls from the back. His smile falters and he clears his throat awkwardly.

 

“Everyone has their reasons.”

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

After class, Lovino is the last one to walk out. He stops momentarily at Antonio's desk and looks at him.

 

“It's obvious, you know. At least for me.” He tries to feign curiosity but the Italian seems to see right through him. “My brother has it, too. You really picked the wrong place to work. My brother can't even come to school, there's too many people.”

 

“You should get to your next class,” he says softly after a few moments. Lovino shrugs and starts to walk out but stops again.

 

“I wouldn't talk about how you moved in your later classes. It'll just happen over and over again.” And with that, he walks out of the classroom, leaving Antonio with a strange feeling in his stomach.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

He finds out that Lovino is also in the Foods class that he assistant teaches in. He takes his advice and only tells them his name, age, and that he was born in Spain. The teacher—who has the students call him Francis instead of Mr. Bonnefoy—has him set out ingredients and clean up the huge mess a loud senior made by 'accidentally' knocking over a huge bowl of dough.

 

It was too soupy and definitely needed more flour, he thinks as he wipes it up.

 

The seniors filter out at the end of the class and Antonio is cleaning up the various cooking stations in the room. Francis invites him out for drink at the end of the week with another teacher and he gladly accepts. He gets along exceptionally well with Mr. Bonnefoy, he finds out, and Antonio looks forward to Friday night.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

The week progresses normally—Lovino does not stay after class like he did the first day, but Antonio never fails to catch his eye during class. He loses one of his free periods, unfortunately, as he's asked to oversee one of the senior study halls. Whether it's by chance or God trying to tell him something, Lovino is also in this study hall. He can't help but feel almost safe around him. It's reassuring, knowing that he doesn't expect him to be normal.

 

He wonders if Lovino would find it weird if Antonio told him that he wants to hang out. He knows that teachers don't make friends with students, but he longs to make an exception.

 

“Mr. Carriedo?” A pretty student snaps him out of his pondering. He looks up and freezes; for a moment it looks like it's _her_ before him, but he blinks quickly and realizes that it's just one of his students. She flashes him a smile and giggles—something he supposes she thinks is flirting, but it really just sends him to the brink of losing it. “Do you know anything about Calculus?”

 

He chuckles shakily. “It's been a couple years but I can always try,” he replies. She laughs again and drags her desk up next to his. Antonio glances up at Lovino for a split second to see him mouthing, 'you okay?' He nods and continues to help the student. He finds out that she works in a lingerie store on the weekends and gets discounts often.

 

He doesn't know how that relates to Calculus.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

“ _You're a guy, Antonio, you should like what I'm doing.”_

 

Antonio's green eyes snap open and he gasps for air. He sits up and wildly looks around. He calms down a bit when he realizes that he's not in his old room and his old girlfriend isn't slipping out of her petite black dress. He gets up after a few minutes and begins to get ready.

 

He walks out of the apartment complex and feels cold rain fall.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

He sits down behind his desk and shrugs his jacket off. Despite the icy precipitation, he feels unbearably hot. After a moment of hesitation, he rolls his sleeves up and hopes that no one looks.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

“Señor Carriedo, what's on your wrist?” He stops writing on the board and almost drops the marker. He's about to give a weak excuse to cover them up but another voice stops him.

 

“You don't just ask someone what's on their wrist. Don't be fucking rude,” Lovino snaps. Antonio feels unbearably grateful and continues the lesson like nothing happened.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

He's fighting to keep his breathing steady by the time the class is over. Everyone leaves except Lovino, who calmly walks up to his desk. He pulls out a case of foundation and holds his hand out.

 

“Give me your arm,” he says. Antonio complies and shudders as the cool liquid is spread thinly across his arm, and then his other.

 

Antonio finally gives in and feels warm tears run down his face. All he can see around him is his old bedroom and he feels the pressure of another body on top of him even though he knows that it's only Lovino and he's standing in front of him.

 

“-arriedo. Mr. Carriedo!” He shakes his head and finally he's back in the present time. Lovino is looking at him in a way that Antonio can't describe. “Try and think about something else.” He shakes his head because he can't and how _dare_ Lovino try and say just to—

 

His eyes widen when he feels another pair of lips on his own. It's soft and before he knows it it's over. He looks at Lovino in a mixture of surprise and another feeling that he doesn't really know how to describe yet.

 

“Just something else to think about,” Lovino whispers.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

The end of fall comes swiftly and Antonio falls into a tormented routine. It feels as though he's trapped in his old town again and that he'll never leave. Lovino hasn't spoken to him since what happened and it's morbid torture to see him everyday.

 

Thanksgiving break couldn't come soon enough and his final period—study hall—is almost over. The students are rowdy and joyful for the whole week they'll have off. After an what feels like an eternity, the bell rings and the students rush out. Several wish him a good holiday and he tiredly returns. He's packing up his things when the boy he's been thinking about for weeks steps up to his desk.

 

“Have a good Thanksgiving, Mr. Carriedo,” he says.

 

“You too,” Antonio replies. He watches as he turns around and begins to walk out. “Lovino?” He calls. The Italian stops at the door.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“My name's Antonio.” Lovino turns around, the blush on his face evident.

 

“Have a good Thanksgiving, Antonio,” he says softly before leaving.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

The break is over quickly and the pattern continues; the sky never seems to stray from it's current gray color and he feels like he'll never be able to escape what happened that night. Sometimes he starts to think that maybe it _was_ his fault for not giving into her sooner—she really was a nice girl, and he had refused her something that she had wanted for so long.

 

It's so hard for him not to blame her, though, because every day is hell because of what happened. He can barely look at women the same way, and he's starting to think that painful encounter may have ruined the whole idea of dating for him. Simple sounds send him back, like the clicking of heels or the unlocking of a door. He hates it, and he feels so...

 

_...weak._

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

From the various chatter around the school—that he may or may not purposely listen to—Antonio finds out that Lovino is 18 years old and lives with his two brothers and their grandfather. He also learns that the middle brother is a freshman this year, and the youngest is home schooled. He feels a little guilty for having to use gossip to find out information on him, but the student refused to talk to him other than the occasional question in Foods.

 

But those are not the only things he finds out, as high school girls don't normally talk about how many brothers he may have. He learns that Lovino loves to draw, and that he uses some high class Italian shampoo and his 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' attitude is very popular with just about _everyone._ Apparently it's common knowledge that he swings both ways, also.

 

After finding out that information, Antonio feels very guilty but curious nonetheless.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

There's only one week left of the first semester, and every senior in his study hall is pouring over their textbooks for finals. He's grading papers himself, and also plans to put the last piece of the Spanish 4 final together. Antonio's actually a little sad that the semester is almost over, as he will lose one of his classes with Lovino. Foods is only a half credit, so the students only take it for one semester. He decides that he shouldn't dwell on it, as he still has Spanish 4 with him.

 

He glances around the study hall and catches the eye of the senior girl—whom he finds out is a well-known student named Ava—that had asked him to help her with Calculus. She winks and his breath catches in his throat and he looks down, red in the face. She might have thought that he was flustered, but in reality he was scared; all those mannerisms reminded him too much of her and he couldn't do it.

 

He glances at the clock in a panic and realizes that there's still another thirty minutes left until the day is over. Antonio's not sure he can keep his calm that long, as his heart is already racing and his mind can't seem to stop drifting to the small bedroom and an uncomfortable heat pressing into him, trapping him...

 

“Mr. Carriedo?” He looks up to see Lovino standing before his desk holding one of his textbooks. His voice drops a little and he says, “Do you know anything about Calculus?”

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Winter break finally arrives, and for the first week before Christmas, he's stuck grading finals. He notices that Lovino passed with flying colors, and feels oddly proud. He can't say the same for some of his other students, but he realizes—however awful it may seem—that he really doesn't care about most of them.

 

Sighing, he writes the final score on the last test and sits back in his small couch. He looks around his apartment and his gaze lands on the calendar. He looks at the date and wistfully grasps that Christmas is the day after tomorrow and he has no one to spend it with. He wishes that his friends, Francis and Gilbert, from the school were free, but Francis has a fiancée and Gilbert has a younger brother, both in places other than here. He thinks that maybe he just shouldn't celebrate; after all, the thought of that holiday just reminds him of her and all the ones they spent together.

 

He decides that he'll go out and buy a small, fake tree to make himself feel a little better.

 

Antonio stands up and grabs his keys to the junk car he was able to buy. It really is a piece of crap, but he's happy that he doesn't have to walk anymore. The door creaks when he opens it and he slams it shut quickly to keep the biting cold out. After starting the car, he pulls out of the apartment's parking lot and drives away.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Antonio is pleased to find a small tinsel tree with little ornaments on it. He also buys a large bag of chocolate and a bottle of wine, since he figures he'll probably need them both by the time the night is over.

 

The cashier gives him a sympathetic look as he rings up his items. “Gonna be alone, huh?”

 

“Yeah,” Antonio answers.

 

“I get it man. I haven't had a girlfriend in a couple years, I know how rough it is. It gets better,” he replies. Antonio smiles uneasily and thanks him once his groceries are bagged.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

He stops at a small coffee shop before heading home. Many people are in the tables around him, clutching warm drinks and laughing with friends and loved ones. It doesn't make him sad to see all the couples—it terrifies him. He doesn't think that he'll be able to trust someone that much for a long time.

 

The bell rings as the door is opened. Antonio glances up once, and then again when he sees that it's Lovino. Part of him hopes that he comes over, but the other doesn't want the Italian to see him in such a state. He feels wrecked and panicky and it embarrasses him. He knows that Lovino has seen him like this before, but he's still flustered nonetheless.

 

Lovino does spot him, and sits in the seat across from him with ease. “Fancy seeing you here.”

 

“Mhmm.” He's afraid to say anything because he knows that his voice will sound scared and shaky. He clutches his coffee a little tighter and takes a sip to occupy his mouth. He sets it down and fiddles with his hands while looking at him. Antonio tries to maintain a happy façade, but he's come to find out that Lovino is exceptionally good at seeing through him.

 

“You haven't talked about it yet, have you?” He questions. Antonio picks at his thumb for a few seconds before shaking his head. “Not even to a therapist?”

 

“I don't need a therapist.”

 

“Yeah, because you breaking down crying after your first period Spanish class really means you don't fucking need a therapist,” he retorts. Antonio flinches at how loud his voice has gotten.

 

“Look, I just don't think I need a therapist, okay? I don't need someone telling me I'm crazy when I already know that,” he says quietly. “And I didn't know you took active interest in all your teachers' sanity.” Lovino blushes lightly.

 

“Nope, only you, Antonio.”

 

He notices moments later that the sky is very clear.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

It turns out that he won't be spending Christmas alone. Lovino offers to hang out after finding out that Antonio would be alone with a bottle of wine and cheap chocolate. Apparently, his brothers and grandfather had flown back to Italy to celebrate with their other family members, but Lovino had stayed behind to finish a 'project'. Antonio doesn't really care if he has a project or not.

 

He spends all of Christmas Eve cleaning up and hanging ridiculous decorations up. By the end of the day, he's proud of the way his home looks and decides to make himself a nice dinner. He leaves out the tomatoes, of course.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

On Christmas Day he gets up early, showers, and makes a small breakfast for himself. He's overjoyed to the point where he doesn't even notice that harsh storm clouds have blown in and the sky is the grayest it's been yet. Antonio hums one of his favorite songs and even ends up dancing around for a little bit. He looks at his pitiful tree and realizes that he doesn't have a gift for Lovino.

 

He dances over to his keys and races to his car.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

After running around the closest store for fifteen minutes, he buys Lovino a sketchbook after realizing that he really doesn't know what the Italian would want. He figures that he'll be able to fix that, and rushes home to wrap it with the wrapping paper he just purchased with the gift.

 

When he gets back to his apartment, he pauses for a split second and realizes that he's spending Christmas with one of his students. He also remembers that having a student in your home is considered very wrong. Antonio shrugs and figures that since he's only his student for another semester—and that he's also 18—that it didn't really matter.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Lovino arrives at around 3 and Antonio hugs him the second he enters the apartment.

 

“I just walked in.” He's scowling but has a look in his eyes that says he was happy to see Antonio also. He takes his coat of, hangs it up, and looks around the apartment. “You really went all out,” he remarks. Antonio beams.

 

“I spent all day yesterday putting this all up,” he says excitedly. “Although I only have that for a tree.” He points to the small tinsel tree with the wrapped sketchbook underneath. “Oh, and that's yours, by the way.”

 

“You didn't have to get me anything,” he mutters. He pulls a small box out of his pocket and places it gently under the tinsel. “Alright, food.” Antonio laughs.

 

“I thought that we'd make it together!” He exclaims. “I didn't have enough money to get ham, but I have other stuff, if you want to look.” Lovino nods and steps into the kitchen while looking around.

 

“You have enough stuff to make pasta.”

 

Antonio hums in acknowledgment, but halfway through it catches in his throat.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

“Have you always been this happy?” Lovino asks while they cook. Antonio shrugs.

 

“Yeah, I guess so. It's just, ever since...” He trails off, leaving him to fill in the blank. Lovino looks pensive for a few moments

 

“I don't know, it's just all the time at school you seem-”

 

“Weak?”

 

“I was going to say broken.”

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

The food is finally finished and they sit next to each other on his small couch, using the two TV trays Antonio has as a table. Lovino digs in quickly but he's not so sure. He pushes it around with his fork, almost throwing up at the strong smell of the sauce. The Italian pauses in his rapid eating and looks at him.

 

“Are you gonna eat?” He questions. Antonio opens his mouth to explain but doesn't exactly know how; should he say that he's never really liked tomatoes? That would be the biggest lie he's ever told, as he used to eat tomatoes all the time. It feels embarrassing, knowing the real reason why he can't eat them. They were _her_ favorite thing to eat and red was her favorite color. He hates it that almost everything reminds him of her and what she did to him.

 

“I...just, they remind me too much of _her._ ” He knows that Lovino doesn't know who she is and he knows that he'll want an explanation. Maybe he'll be ready to talk.

 

“What reminds you too much of her?” Lovino is calm and curious, so unlike his hotheadedness at school. Although it feels a little antagonizing, he figures he needs something other than pity.

 

“It's going to sound stupid...” Lovino sets down his fork, turns towards him, and looks on expectantly. “Tomatoes. It's dumb, I know-”

 

“It's not dumb,” he interjects. “My brother can't stand belts or anything leather. He has to wear tight stuff so it doesn't fall down. It looks goddamn stupid, because he's only 11,” he laughs. “Anyways, continue.” Antonio fiddles with his hands a bit before speaking again.

 

“When I was a sophomore in high school, I completely fell in love with this girl named Victoria.” He can already feel the lump in his throat forming. It makes it hard for him to talk, but he keeps going anyways. “She was the sweetest girl in the school and she was very pretty. I wasn't...er...attractive in high school. At all. But somehow she said yes when I asked her out and we started dating. After high school, we moved in together and went to the same college.” He rolls his sleeves up. “Victoria started getting...weird. She talked about children and families all the time. We graduated college and moved into an actual apartment together. And then...” Antonio swallows slowly. “One night she said she had some stuff to do, so I was at home waiting for her to get back. She came back. I remember the lock slowly opening, her heels clicking on the floor, her black dress, and the rain beating down on the windows...” His body shudders and his eyes start to sting. “Victoria came in and said that I'd kept myself from her long enough.”

 

“How long had you guys been together?” Lovino asks in the small pause.

 

“Six years. I just...I didn't want sex. I was happy with being in a relationship, and waiting until marriage. I was stupid, and she was right. She deserved it and I didn't deliver.”

 

“No! Oh my god, no,” he yells. “That is so fucking wrong! You don't owe anyone shit!” Lovino looks angry, but stops yelling. “Sorry. Keep going, if you want.”

 

“She came in and said that she had been so nice to me and that she thought it was time for us too...you know. I told her that I wanted to wait until marriage and she...” He gasps. It all feels to real, and he feels like it's happening again. But he wants, _needs_ to tell Lovino. “She slipped out of her dress and just came onto me and I couldn't stop her,” he begins sob. He can hear Lovino saying that he can stop if he wants, but he has to finish. “She kept saying, 'You should like this, Antonio,' and 'I'll make it so you'll never forget your _first time,_ '” he chokes out.

 

“What do you mean 'never forget'?” He asks warily. Antonio stands up and pulls off his shirt to reveal thin scratch marks all over his torso and arms.

 

Lovino covers his mouth in horror when he sees the word 'mine' scratched the deepest.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

“Were tomatoes her favorite food?” He asks after Antonio finishes crying.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“If it makes you feel any better, I like tomatoes too, but I'm not a psychotic bitch.”

 

Antonio laughs.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

“Oh!” Antonio exclaims. Lovino jumps at how loud his statement is. “We still have to open presents!” He jumps up from the couch and grabs them both. He hands Lovino his first and looks at him expectantly.

 

“You sure do bounce back quickly,” he mumbles. The Italian takes the tape off and crumples up the wrapping paper. He smiles—which Antonio realizes is a very wonderful thing—and flips through it a bit before closing it again. “Thank you,” he says softly. “Open yours.”

 

Antonio opens up the small box and sees a class ring. “Is this for your class?”

 

“Yeah. I didn't know what your ring size was so I just guessed. Read the inscription on the inside,” he says. He looks and laughs when he sees 'Do you know anything about Calculus?'

 

“I feel very one-upped.”

 

“Nah, you got me the best thing you could've.” They sit in silence for a little while.

 

“Thanks for...everything,” Antonio murmurs. Lovino looks up and scowls.

 

“Yeah, yeah. Like you wouldn't have done the same.”

 

He feels very touched.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Christmas break finishes up and they both return to school. Antonio still flinches when he hears heels clicking or doors unlocking, and his worst days are always when it rains, but somehow he feels...lighter.

 

He has to restrain from talking to Lovino openly. He's scared of what other people will think, but he's also terrified because he knows he likes him so much and he's so afraid that it'll happen again. He hopes that maybe when this year is over, he'll be ready.

 

Antonio realizes in his free period that he has automatically assumed that Lovino has feelings for him.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

The year seems to be going much faster, and it's already spring break. This time, he doesn't have Lovino to spend time with, and he's alone in his small apartment. It's one of his good days, however, and he feels a little happier than he has been lately. He flinches, though, at the rainy sky.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

It's Easter, and surprisingly, Lovino's grandfather has invited the staff of the high school over for dinner. He finds out that this is a yearly ordeal, as Mr. Vargas likes to keep tabs on the faculty. It's apparently a very fancy event, and he finds out that he doesn't actually own very fancy things. He calls Francis, who is more than happy to supply him with a suitable outfit.

 

He straightens the tie while looking in his mirror and thinks that he looks quite dashing in a suit.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

He's a little embarrassed to show up in his junk car. He already knows that almost everyone here is pretty loaded from family business, he just didn't realize that everyone else's cars look _so_ much nicer than his. At least his borrowed suit looks good.

 

It's kind of odd, walking into Lovino's house. It's grand and much better than anything he's ever been in. Antonio's never really wanted a large home, and he shudders when he remembers that Victoria had always talked about having a nice big house with several children.

 

It seems that dinner is about to start and Antonio's a little late. Francis and Gilbert greet him happily and he returns, conversing with them in idle chit chat. He spots Lovino for a split second, and smiles a little at how nice he looks.

 

He always looks nice, he thinks, but that's not the point.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

The dinner is spectacular but overall uneventful. The dessert is finished and everyone begins to get up to thank Mr. Vargas and leave. He does the same, but ends up being engaged in a long conversation with said man. Antonio almost feels like he's being interrogated.

 

“So, Mr. Carriedo-”

 

“Call me Antonio,” he smiles.

 

“Alright, Antonio. Why did you move from LA to here? I mean, that is a pretty random move...” He figures that he would've been asked this question eventually. He's about to answer with some weak cover-up that he's practiced ten times in the mirror, but he is once again saved by Lovino—although he doesn't think it was purely intentional this time.

 

“Nonno, Marcello dropped the cat down the stairs again,” he deadpans. His eyes widen slightly at Antonio.

 

“Again? Alright, I'll go help the poor cat.” He huffs and turns to Antonio. “Kids,” he mutters before walking off. “Lovino, walk him out to his car, please make sure he doesn't break a hip like poor Mrs. Carnella did last year. The paper work was _horrific._ ”

 

“Yeah, okay,” he replies.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

“Your house is very big,” Antonio remarks as they walk outside. Lovino scoffs.

 

He kicks a rock and says, “Too big. I like your apartment. It's cozy.” Antonio smiles and they walk in silence for a while. He's not too regretful that he's parked all the way at the end of their long drive, as it means a little more time with Lovino. It starts to rain.

 

He flinches.

 

“It was raining when it happened, right?” Antonio nods. They reach his car and turn to face each other. Lovino glances quickly at the house. “Can I kiss you?”

 

“What?”

 

“You heard me. Can I fuckin' kiss you?”

 

“You didn't ask if you could that one day.”

 

“You were sobbing hysterically, I didn't really have the time. Sorry.”

 

“Yes.”

 

“Really?”

 

“...Yeah.”

 

Lovino grabs his hands and presses his lips to Antonio's.

 

“A little something to think about when it rains,” he whispers before turning away and walking up the driveway.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

It rains all night, and Antonio can only feel the ghost of a pair of lips on his own. They're not rough and bloody, though. They're soft and they taste like tomatoes.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

The end of the year finally rolls around and it's hard to keep the seniors attention. He can tell they're all so tired, and that they've got six other finals to study for. He looks at their almost depressed faces and pauses midlesson.

 

“I have a question for you guys,” he says. They look up a bit, probably curious as to why he's stopped reviewing irregular first person progressive verbs. “You all have finals next week, right?” They groan and he laughs. He's been finding it much easier to keep his cool during the school day.

 

“What's that got to do with the conjugation of salir, Señor Carriedo?” A student from the back asks. Even Lovino is looking at him strangely.

 

“Hang on a second, you'll find out.” He goes behind his desk and picks up his phone. Antonio smiles as he dials the principal's extension.

 

“Hello?”

 

“Hi, Mrs. Carnella? Yes, I was wondering if it was possible if I didn't give the seniors a Spanish final. I think they've worked so hard this year and they deserve it.” The students gasp. “Of course, I'll give an assignment in it's place,” and then they all groan.

 

“You know, Mr. Carriedo, you're too nice for your own good.”

 

He grins and hangs up the phone before turning to his class.

 

“You're assignment is to give me a printed picture of your favorite fruit or vegetable and two sentences explaining why.” He looks directly at Lovino when he says this, and almost laughs when he shakes his head with a smile.

 

“How many points is it worth?”

 

“A lot.”

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

The class ends and many of the students thank him with hugs. Lovino, as usual, is the last one to leave.

 

“Are you a suck-up to all of your students?” He asks.

 

“Nope, just you, Lovino.”

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Semester two finals come and go and all the assignments get turned in. He's happy to see that their brains weren't completely fried and that they all turned in fruits and vegetables. He smiles when he reaches Lovino's and reads it out loud to himself.

 

“'The tomato is my favorite _fruit-'_ Is it actually a fruit? I had never realized,” he says. “'-because it reminds me of Italy. It also reminds me of a really cheap Christmas and someone that didn't eat my fantastic cooking.'” He smiles and writes a 100% with a little smiley face.

 

He's so happy now, and he's not sure how. It feels like he bounced back fast, faster than he though he would've. He knows that he'll still always recoil at doors unlocking and he'll probably end up staying inside when it rains, but he's better.

 

Antonio hasn't cried in a while, and he figures that that's a good sign.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

He's surprised when Lovino walks into his classroom on the last day of school. He's really just cleaning things up, now, since none of the seniors—except for Lovino, apparently—actually came to school. He doesn't blame them.

 

“How come you're at school?” He watches as Lovino sits on his desk.

 

“I had to drive Feli to school and I figured I'd drop in.”

 

“Fair enough.” They sit in a comfortable silence for a while.

 

“Are you coming to the graduation ceremony?”

 

“I kinda have to, seeing as I'm helping to hand out diplomas and even giving a speech. I would go anyways, really, because it's yours.”

 

“Nice save,” Lovino scoffs. “Why do you have to give a speech?” Antonio shrugs.

 

“Apparently they want me to give a 'fresh perspective on the atmosphere of this school'. I also taught the highest number of classes and I don't think they can afford to pay me overtime.” Lovino laughs.

 

“You've changed a lot, you know. Since the beginning of the year,” he says. Antonio hums in agreement.

 

“It's because of you,” he replies. Lovino blushes.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Antonio doesn't really remember the speech he just gave. He knows that he made it real short so he could listen to Lovino's—since the Italian failed to tell him that he was the _valedictorian—_ and that he really sucked up by saying how great the school was.

 

He leans forward in his seat, watching as Lovino walks up towards the podium. He's very handsome in a graduation gown, he decides.

 

Well, he's handsome in whatever he wears, he thinks, but that's not the point.

 

Lovino clears his throat and takes a couple of note cards out of his sleeve. He looks at them for a few seconds, opens his mouth, and then throws them behind his back. “Whatever. Who needs note cards anyways,” he begins. The class laughs. “That's actually a lie. How else would I have passed that _grueling_ Spanish 4 final?” They laugh again and Lovino looks back at him. Antonio smiles. “Anyways, onto the point. So obviously, we're about to graduate. I don't know about you, but that actually scares the shi-crap out of me.” He looks back at the principal with a sheepish smile. “Sorry Mrs. Carnella!” They all laugh again and it's obvious that he's at ease in front of all of them.

 

His speech goes on, and Antonio finds that he accidentally tunes out. He just can't help but notice how similar Victoria and Lovino are—they're both so well-liked and _so_ out of his league. They both even have this almost crazy obsession with tomatoes. Antonio notes, though, that Lovino is not a psychotic bitch.

 

“I think that high school means a lot of different things for everyone. For some, it was the worst time of their lives. For others, it was the best. But it _changes_ you. Not just the school itself, but the people around you. Your friends, your teachers-” Antonio almost laughs but decides not to. “-everyone. It makes me feel pretty damn good knowing that I changed someone's life.”

 

He leaves the auditorium in silence for a few moments.

 

“So, to end my super long and boring speech, remember high school, even if you got beat up everyday as a freshman or became the valedictorian. Remember it not as the worst or best time of your life, but remember it as something that changed you.” He steps down and sits back in his seat.

 

He wonders briefly if Lovino was speaking to his class or to him.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

It's hard, at first, to hand out the diplomas. Almost all the girls are wearing heels, and a number of them have small black dresses on. He always seems to catch Lovino's eye, though, and it makes him feel a little better. They finally reach Lovino—who of course goes last—and he hands him the diploma with a smile and shakes his hand.

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Antonio smiles as he watches Lovino getting pictures taken with various students. He seems so natural, laughing and talking with his peers. He realizes that Lovino's 'I-don't-give-a-fuck' attitude was fake. He was really one of the best people in this school.

 

“Staring at me, huh?” He jumps at the sight of Lovino right in front of him.

 

“I was spacing out,” he says quickly before seeing his smile. “So how does it feel to finally be out of here?”

 

“Eh. Okay,” he replies.

 

“Where are you going to college?” He bites the inside of his mouth. He's scared that Lovino's going to move far away and he's never really going to be able to tell Lovino how he feels. Antonio's pretty sure that he already knows, but it makes him feel better to say things out loud.

 

“Oh, just the local university.”

 

“But you're the valedictorian! You could go anywhere you want!”

 

“Yeah, but the university here actually has a really good teaching program. They partner up with local high schools and they do student-teaching stuff.” It clicks in Antonio's brain, but he figures he'll keep the banter going.

 

“Oh, what subject are you planning on teaching?”

 

“Spanish.”

 

“Really?

 

“Yup.”

 

“Hm, what made you choose that path?”

 

“Not sure. It just...came to me.” Antonio laughs. He notices that they've started to meander around the parking lot.

 

“Hey Lovino?”

 

“What?” Antonio stops in their walk and Lovino pause a few steps ahead and turns to face him.

 

“Thanks for changing my life.” Lovino rolls his eyes.

 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. Like you wouldn't have done the same.”

 

.o0o0o0o.

 

Antonio ponders Lovino's speech often. He really wonders if high school changed him at all—if anything, the real thing that changed him was Victoria. Without her, he supposes that he never would've met and connected with the love of his life. Of course, he'll never forgive her for making life harder to live, but he does wonder what would've happened if that fateful night had never existed. He tries not to dwell on it too long, and just settles on the fact that she changed his life too.

 

He makes a silent note to thank her when he sees her in hell, because the sex he has with Lovino is _amazing._

 

**End**

 

**Author's Note:**

> Final Count: 7,263 words and 17 pages according to OpenOffice
> 
> Okay I have a couple of things to point out:
> 
> 1.Antonio has PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder). I did heavy research on symptoms and causes. I also looked at several how-to write blogs and they said to try and make it diverse, as it is offensive to make it stereotypical. Also: not once does Lovino say that he'll try and 'fix' Antonio. People aren't toys that you can stitch and tape up.  
> 2.I based the school system on the high school I go to. It's a day of eight periods, and each period is 45 minutes long. One period is always study hall and another is a semester elective. Also with the final thing, (if you don't know already) those are tests that you take at the end of the semester over everything you've covered within that semester. And yes, teachers have done what Antonio did. My brother didn't have to take an English final because his teacher was awesome.  
> 3.The beginning of this fic starts out darker. The use of words are more sophisticated. By the end of the fic, though, there is humor and it's definitely lighter. This mirrors the progression of Antonio's disorder and how he slowly gets better.  
> 4.I know this point of view is weird. I don't know why I picked it. I spent an hour revising because I accidentally switched so often.  
> 5.The reason why Antonio is so young is because he graduated at 17 (I will also graduate at 17, it's not because you skip a grade it's because your birthday is late).  
> 6.I didn't start calling him Antonio until his name was said in dialogue. I don't know why I'm pointing this out but it make me feel cool  
> 7.A lot of the conversations Antonio and Lovino have really mirror each other except the positions switch. It's kind of a coming full circle thing and I did it on purpose because it makes me feel better about myself
> 
> Translations:
> 
> Me llamo Señor Carriedo: My name is Mr. Carriedo.
> 
> Me llamo Lovino Vargas, soy de Italia. Me gusta dormir y comer: My name is Lovino Vargas, I'm from Italy. I like to sleep and eat.
> 
> Mucho gusto: Very nice to meet you.


End file.
